


The Northern Terror

by Tea_Queen_2112



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dub con at times but majority noncon, Graphic Violence, Jon Snow - Freeform, M/M, NSWF, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rarepair Secret Santa, Yara Greyjoy - Freeform, Ygritte - Freeform, brienne of tarth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Queen_2112/pseuds/Tea_Queen_2112
Summary: Theon Greyjoy thought this night would end in the capture of the elusive Northern Terror. A killer who has been expanding his kill list. In a turn of events he ends up the one to be captured and the Killer knows exactly how to treat his new captive.





	The Northern Terror

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Christmas/Early Valentines day! To Hitsujinko. Haven't done NSFW for a while so I hope my skills aren't too rusty. Enjoy. (Nice Blog btw :D)

The Warehouse is where it started and it would be where it ended. 

A group of people in professional tactical gear were all huddled around the one central create that acted as a makeshift desk for them to lay out their schemes on. It was a mess, drawn up in a hurry. A voice was kept low and quiet yet still filled with determination. 

“We go in hard. If you see him there is a shoot to kill order. The Northern Terror ends tonight.” Brienne spoke. The whole team nodded in agreement. Like a village readying their pitchforks and torches, they were ready to defeat the monster. 

One of the men in the group had a smirk on his face as soon as she said it. The smaller woman beside him looked over to see what he was so happy about. 

“Go in hard. That’s what she said.” Theon joked to his ever annoyed sister. Yara rolled her eyes and gave him a signature reluctant smile. 

The rest of the team gave that same expression. “Really Greyjoy?” Jon said. His eyes rolled on queue every time he opened that big mouth of his. He got that humour was his thing but now was not the time. 

“We can be in good spirits. We’re capturing him tonight. You could lighten up when he’s on death row. He will lighten up but in a different way.” Theon smirked again. This joke didn’t go over so well with his sister the second time so he shut up. Still smiling. 

“Right. You know the plan. You take the North of the warehouse. Yara you take the East. Jon and Ygritte you take the South. I’ll be on the West.” Their leader told them and everyone agreed. They all wished each other good luck before splitting off in their different directions. 

The Northern Terror’s reign of terror ended tonight. It would be his swansong. 

They split up in their separate directions. The warehouse wasn't in the best condition since the shutdown 5 years ago but apparently, the tip-off said this was where he’d be hiding so they had to check it out. It was the only lead that they had. 

Theon looked around the hallway hoping that he would be able to find something but though there was used needles and graffiti from the squatters everywhere there was still no sign of any type of serial killer activity. After reading what they’d gathered so far he should have been seeing some bloodied X’s just lying around the place. 

The corridors were long and twisting throughout the entire place. He felt he’d been walking for hours with no such luck.

Suddenly his luck turned as he saw the shadow at the end of the corridor and he knew he had to run at it. Even if he had only seen it out of the corner of his eye he knew that it was worth a shot. It might have been a mouse scuttling but if he didn’t check it out he could let him get away. 

He held his gun high and looked around every corner. He knew he should have run away from his given direction but Theon had become somewhat obsessed with this new serial killer and he was going to be the one to bring him down. 

As he was running he heard a sound that would change him forever. A gunshot that came from about 4 rooms away. It didn’t forebode well as he began to run he heard something slump to the ground with a harsh and wet thud. 

He ran to where the sound of the bullet had come from the echo still tunnelling through the empty hallways. He sped up as he realised that the sound he was walking towards came from the East where his sister had been heading. 

The room was pitch black save for the small crescent-shaped window that allowed the palest bit of moonlight into the room. In the shadows lay a slightly illuminated the figure of a body lying in a pool of blood. It had a police uniform on. He was so distracted by the body he completely forgot to check behind a pile of old crates that just happened to be big enough to conceal a fully grown man. 

Theon held up his gun once more and checked the room before investigating the body. He was sure that the area was clear 

“Yara. No. Oh god.”

The body on the ground was his sisters. The lighting was poor but her hair was definitely the hair of her sister. Looking at the ground was like looking in a crimson tinted mirror. It had been a shotgun wound because her torso was completely torn to shreds. He couldn’t bare to look at her face. 

“Yara?” He said. His voice was a whisper. He couldn’t believe it. They had been so sure that this plan was foolproof. Why wasn’t Yara wearing her protective gear? So many questions going around in his brain trying to stop the panic. It was washing over him and he tried not to get overwhelmed.

He got up to try and tell the others who more than likely didn’t hear the shot seeing how the building was laid out. He reached for his walkie talkie but to his surprise it wasn't on his belt. Last time he checked it definitely had been. 

As he reached down to get it a sudden movement was heard but Theon was too slow to do anything about it.   
The pain was in his neck first. As if someone had just pressed a hot pair of straighteners to the back of his neck and had lightly seared the flesh. His eyes were watering from the shock. The smell came next before his head smacked against the warehouse floor. If felt like he’d just been exposed to an electric fence. 

His vision was blurred but he could make out the movement around him. A male figure. It must have been Jon telling him he'd fallen into one of the madman’s traps. 

“Get him up before the rest of those bastards come.” A husky voice said as he closed in on Theon’s head. In his delirium he could only pray that the man standing over him would make his death a swift and merciful one. 

 

It was the Northern Terror. Come to claim his next victim. 

 

-

He had been in a dead-alive state. The flicking of the fluorescent lights above his head did not help what’s so ever. He felt like he’d just woken up from the worst hangover he’d ever had and that was saying a lot. 

As his focus came back to reality he noticed someone was standing in front of him. A man for sure. At least he thought it was. The hair was throwing him off a little bit. His face still slightly blurry. 

As another minute passed he came more into focus. He didn’t need to guess how it was. The X shaped burn on his arm told him everything that he needed to know. He couldn't believe he was standing right in front of him. 

There he was. No mask. No Knife. No shirt…

“The name is Ramsay. Ramsay Bolton. But you know me by my nickname. The Northern Terror they call me.”

Theon tried to move to grab for his gun but he was bound. 

 

This was a psychological mine filed. At least with a minefield, you know what fate would await you if you made the wrong mistake. Here he wasn’t sure what befell him. The Northern Terror, or, Ramsay was an interesting man to him. The reason why he did these things was the main reason of fascination. Like why he was standing in front of him without a shirt. Nothing to defend him. A power move to show who was in charge. 

His face wasn’t what he expected. Inside his eyes was nothing. There was no true pleasurable emotion. He enjoyed hurting people. With his female victims, he had a routine but with his male victims there was no designated pattern to follow. He could have done anything with him. 

He’d seen the killer in the eyes.

He must have been a good manipulator because the way he looked was nothing like the victims had described at all. One had said his eyes were a light green like the color of the house reed crest. Another was certain that the Northern terror stood short of 5’3 when he would have said he was easily 5’6.

Theon had to stop his head looking up to meet those unblinking eyes. They weren't snow. They weren’t even colour of the cleanest cotton sheets. His eyes were the colour of bone. Perhaps to most people they would have been nice to look, maybe even painted could do an entire collection about them. 

He didn’t like to admit it but Theon always fantasized about what their enemy looked like. The reveal hadn’t been disappointed by he’d rather have not found out this way. 

During their eye contact Ramsay looked into Theon’s. The eyes were the gateway to the soul and Ramsay wanted to see inside Theon’s. Even if he had to rip them right out of his skull to get a closer inspection. Ramsay had just been staring at Theon as if the longer he looked the more he learned. 

Theon could feel the robe binding him to the chair. It was his signature trademark. Tie up the victims, drain them, kill them. Like B.T.K but with more finesse. It was a thick variety. Red thick rope like the type that they’d try to use in bondage films. 

He finally spoke and the voice that came out would chill him to the bone. 

“You know I’ve been enjoying you for the longest time but now I’ve got you I’m…Disappointed?” Ramsay didn’t know. He should have been happy he finally got his prey. In the end he always did. Why was this one so different? He should have been ecstatic to have captured a member of the team hunting him.

Maybe it was because he knew in the end he would have to kill them like everyone else.

“You didn’t enjoy me. You enjoyed the game we played.” He said through gritted teeth. His gums were the worst part. They were bleeding and he hated the taste of blood. He could hardly stand to smell it let alone have it pouring out of his mouth. Ramsay must have punched him square in the jaw while he was out of it. 

The game they’d been playing was something else. He’d been tracking him for months now to no avail. Always so close yet so far behind. It was the squad in general but Ramsay had grown rather fond of Theon in particular. He acted so foolishly around the team acting like a tease yet when it came down to it he was always the one to get the closest to him. 

“Maybe I did.” Their little cat and mouse game was over. He needed a new game with Theon. Something more personal. He didn’t want to kill Theon. What they had was too good to lose. 

Ramsay had started 5 years ago but since then had become a Serial killer Icon of the modern age. People called him the Northern Terror despite his dislike for the name. He would have changed it but the media was hard to control and once something was out there it was permanent. 

He became a modern-day Jack the Ripper. Originally people weren’t too concerned as he started with one homeless man. People were like that, they didn’t care unless it was someone glamorous. Someone that they could mould into the perfect victim. The moment he took the blade to Myrcella Baratheon’s throat and gave her a red necklace. That was when things got ugly.

Robert came down hard but Cersei came down harder. They were her children after all. 

Ramsay would never have gone for her had he know she was a Baratheon, more trouble then she was worth. Then again if he didn’t kill her he never would have been introduced to the Greyjoy so for that he was thankful. 

“I know something your squad doesn’t.” He enjoyed this teasing.

“What?”

“I know whose funding your little operation. How would your friends know that they were working for Cersei? If i told them well that would be fun. And all those little things you’ve done in your past. Those boys on the farm you hospitalized.”

Theon looked away. The guilt of that being brought up again let him know too things. The first was that he had stalked him. Intensely. Only very few people knew of what went down with those two farm hands. Secondly he was willing to bring up anything from his past to hurt him. The next few hours were going to be the most painful of his life. 

“You killed my sister. Why would they trust anything you say?” It was a good point. Ramsay just looked at him and smirked. 

“You’ve read my file. Myranda looks a lot like Yara. She cut her hair for a mission and well…She suited the part.” His voice was so joyous. Theon couldn’t realise what he meant until he realized. 

“You killed your accomplice just to get to me?” Theon knew he wasn’t right in the head but to kill a lifelong friend as part of a game was just sickening. 

Him shooting her had only been 50% planned. He was eventually going to shoot her in the guts with a single shot of lead but he hadn’t meant for it to be tonight.

Ramsay held the blade in his hand. It rolled perfectly as he moved. It was evident that if he wanted less pain he should move on from the subject of Myranda and quickly. 

The tip of the blade was inches away from his dick. A sharp intake of breath from Theon and Ramsay knew he had him exactly where he wanted him. He pointed it downwards so there was pressure. Not enough to harm but enough to raise the steaks. He cut a small slice in his black trousers. Theon feared the worst as he knew the case files. How Ramsay dealt one final blow to his victim before their death.

He pushed it in sharp;ly and as Theon braced himself suddenly. Nothing. He didn’t feel any sort of stabbing pain in his groin. He looked at Ramsay to show it had only gotten as far as into his belt and not an inch further.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going to cut it off. Not yet anyway.”

“I want to play a game with you and your group.”

Theon wanted to ask what kind of game but he’d seen what Ramsay’s games could do. They could bring destruction wherever they went. It caused a sweat to begin to form on his brow. “How long before you become my new accomplice?”

“I’d never team up with someone like you.”

“You wouldn’t in a normal situation. I suppose that’s true. This isn’t a normal situation though. It’s a do or die situation and in this case you will.”

“They can find me and you’ll go to priso-” Ramsay had balled up his fist and sucked punched him right in the stomach. He could practically see the wind being knocked out of him. Theon coughed loudly a couple of times and even a little bit of blood came up mixed up with the salvia. Theon was aching to wipe it away. His wrists kept rubbing against the ropes. Against his better judgement his tried to wriggle his hands. Even if he could wear away his skin the blood might give him the slick he needed to slip his hand out. 

With his body still bound to the chair he wanted to make sure that he was properly downed before doing anything to untie him from his binds. 

“You have too much spirit. I want to break you.”

Theon’s eyes widened. Ramsay wasn't going to grant him the mercy of a kill. He was going to torture him plain and simple. In the Northern Terror case there were two kinds of victims. The ones he killed for fun and the ones he killed out of necessity. The first kind was how Theon knew what was instore for him. “How are you going to break me?” 

“I think you have an idea.” 

It was all that needed to be said for the fear of hell to be struck into the very core of his soul. 

Ramsay used the knife to slash off Theon’s belt. Theon hated it. He was in the hands of a mad man and he knew what was gonna happen next. He just knew it. Ramsay licked his front teeth and studied the knife for a moment. A dull knife simply wouldn’t do for what he had in store. 

Within a second the knife had slashed the trousers from off his body. Theon’s breathing was being suppressed in his lungs. If his feet weren’t so restricted he would have kicked him in the chest, maybe even kicked him to death. 

Ramsay cut the rest away so his lower half was completely exposed. The cold air prickling at his legs. 

Ramsay casually began to play with his limp dick. Surprisingly he thought Theon would have a small dick considering how cocky he was to the others in his time. Many men he captured often did talk but but disappointed down there. An exception had occurred it seemed. He took the length in his hand and stroked down the full length of it. Theon was trying his hardest to stop himself reacting to it but his hands were so warm and slick he couldn’t help but get a little hard from the motions. 

All he needed to hear was those little almost unhearable grunts from his victim to know that he was ready to proceed.

When Theon was caught off guard Ramsay took the knife and slashed the ropes from his wrists and legs. Theon only had a moments chance to try and escape but Ramsay was two steps ahead of him and pinned him down to the ground, kicking the chair to the side with such force that one of the legs broke off in another direction.

The struggle was all the preparation Ramsay needed. Watching that struggling beneath him gave him all the pleasure he needed. It was also like this with the normal victim but this was special. This was a police officer. A man in a position of power. And he was the one watching him struggle. 

Theon had gritted his teeth almost to breaking point as he refused to give Ramsay the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He’d rather lose a finger then give that criminal any sort of joy from his pain. Not even watching his sister die had caused any sound to leave his body. Theon screamed to the high heavens when he first pounded into him. This night was meant to have gone so much better than it did. This wasn’t meant to be happening to him. 

A choir of angels were singing in Ramsay’s head. This was better than he ever could have imagined. He’d imagined capturing an agent but this was just the cherry on top of the cake. A sweet little delight he could savour.

Ramsay grabbed Theon’s hair and yanked it back in motion with his sudden thrusts. There was no rhythm to it whatsoever and Ramsay seemed to revel in the sloppy nature of it. The feeling was worse than the sounds. Those horrid squelching noises along with his own moaning. The sounds would surely haunt Theon for the rest of his days but the blood was the worst. He could feel it sticking to his thighs and he wanted it off. The blood mixed with Ramsay’s sweat made for a horrid concoction. 

Theon was trying to get away.

The breath was caught in Theon’s lungs as Ramsay’s chest glided across the sweat covered skin of his back, it was getting hot fast and the heat was beginning to get to him. It felt like every millimetre of Theon was touched by Ramsay, leaving no beauty mark untouched. The slow, somewhat unsteady rocking motion unsettling Theon’s whole body. The laboured breathing, the feeling of Ramsay ripping open Theon’s body with every brutal thrust. 

Ramsay didn’t even bother to use lube. He knew that Theon was always on top of whoever he was sleeping with be it man or woman so he guessed he’d never been in the other position before. This, of course, meant that the only lube they needed was blood. Perfect for him. The aroma of the blood was a massive turn on as well. 

Theon was getting the dicking down of a lifetime. Ramsay was an expert in fucking and it was erotic. He was hating it. It was horrific but he couldn’t deny it was good. Horrifically good? Ramsay was hitting all the spots that made him feel so good. Hell, he was even hitting some spots he didn’t realise that he had. The pressure just kept on building and building and he didn’t know what to do with this. He hated it. He should have hated it but he said himself he wanted to be as close to Ramsay as possible and he had gotten his wish granted. 

“Fuck, Greyjoy, you should be a whore you’re that good,” The Bolton groaned, tracing his lips across Theon’s shoulder. The lips soon spreading to show his teeth and sinking down for a bite. Theon seethed in pain making his whole body react the exact way Ramsay wanted it to. He’d done this before. Theon’s spine was a bruised bloody mess. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen Theon so beautiful. Certainly not from his window while fucking whatever dollar store whore he’d picked up for the night. The usually bright spark of Theon’s cocky look was gone. His now pain stricken, puffed red eyes were protected by his drooping eyelids. If he wasn’t going to fight anymore he could at least save himself having to witness the rest of this display. 

Ramsay felt more than heard the low humming sound Theon made when he titled his hips slightly to change his angle of penetration. Each victim had a different method of doing something like this but Theon’s had been the most interesting. He was halfway trying to play along while trying to make it harder at the same time. Not many people would have been smart like that as the panic often overwhelmed them. 

This was better than anything a psychologist could have done. A psychologist could only talk to Ramsay but seeing him in action was something else. There was hatred, probably working out his daddy issues. There was no mercy, showing his lack of empathy. Theon had picked up bits from the criminal psychology sessions. They’d have a field day with Ramsay right now if they were here. 

The fucking was still happening as he was thinking about this. A distraction perhaps. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Theon whispered next to Ramsay’s ear. Curling his lips back from his teeth Ramsay bit down on the tendon just below the same ear to shut him up. Theon talking ruined the illusion. This shut Theon up. Ramsay had been such an animal during it.

“Do you think I’m your mother?” Theon tried in a last-ditch attempt to throw Ramsay of his guard. 

There was good news and bad news. It worked but it had worked too well. 

The statement, said with such conviction, makes Ramsay’s rhythm falter, his hips snapping back and forth quickly before he can stop them. Ramsay stopped for a moment, pulling out of him giving Theon a small amount of relief. Thank goodness the psychologist had told him Ramsay had parental issues, more towards the mother. Even though his head was pounding fit to burst he cannot help but be engulfed with rage by the sight of Theon sprawled on his stomach, head turned to the side, smile on his shit eating grin. Not even the sight of the reddened ass stretched around his dick wasn’t enough to stop him strangling Theon with his own hands. 

Ramsay grabbed the torn fabric of Theon’s trousers and wound a quarter of it around both of his wrists. Within seconds the sturdy material was around Theon’s neck. Squeezing every little drop of life out of his body. Nobody mentioned his mother in front of him. 

Theon tried to curl up on himself to try and save his neck but for the second time that night he’d been too slow. The makeshift noose was around his neck and held tight. Theon felt totally still for a moment after a minute of Ramsay’s rage. His neck was red and his face had gone as white as a sheet. 

Ramsay only let him go after a minute. Ramsay pouted when he saw that Theon was unmoving. This wasn’t meant to be a part of the game. He poked him and nothing had come of it.

In the moment Ramsay took to check that Theon was still living he took that moment to kick him in the knee with all the strength that he had reserved. 

He got up to run. Sprint even. Anything to get out of wherever the hell he had him tied up 

He fell to the ground. His legs had been underneath the weight for so long that the pins and needles had set in. It felt like living television static underneath his skin. Theon was crawling with desperation. He didn’t want to die like this. His hand instinctively reaching for above his head once Ramsay came close to him.

Ramsay slammed his head against the concrete. He relished in the smacking sound that came from it. 

He remained breathing but almost motionless during the next moments of the attack. Theon was vaguely aware that Ramsay seemed to get over his rage quickly and then proceed to get back to fucking him senseless like the little whore he was. The pain and pleasure of picking up where it had left off. 

Theon was exhausted. He reluctantly let his hips loosen up and pray it encouraged Ramsay to stop immediately. He couldn't do anything else. Fighting didn’t work. Flight didn’t work. All he could do was make what time he had left a little bit easier on him.

Ramsay took the hint in the wrong way. Instead of hurrying up he slowed down his pace as he thought it meant he was beginning to enjoy it. Theon was so used to getting inside of other peoples heads that now the fact Ramsay was inside of his it was driving him insane. He was still pounding in and out of him. 

Theon had experienced sex many times. Each time just to fill something inside him or stop him from being bored. Either way it was meaningless to him. This had so much meaning. He was being fucked by the man he had sworn to destroy, not only was he being fucked he was on the receiving end. A tactical power shift to really show who was superior. Theon was trying not to lose what composure he had but he was on thin ice. 

Theon had long ago surpassed being horrified, he had managed to reach a place of ultimate acceptance that this was happening. He couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to so why risk injury by fighting. This was how he was going to be found when they located his body. It would be Yara who found him and would see the state he’d been left in.  
They had been going for some time and Ramsay knew he would not be able to hold out for much longer but he used every ounce of what brutal willpower he possessed to force down his orgasm. The longer Theon got to suffer the better the reward would be. With that in mind he clenched his own eyes shut to block out the sight of Theon underneath him. If he looked into those terrified eyes then it would be over. He didn’t need to see it. He only needed to feel it and hear the sounds of his whimpering to bide him over. Pulling Theon’s hips back and pressing his own forward he felt Theon’s muscles spasm.

After a few more slowed down thursts he collapses against Theon’s back with a hoarse groan. Ramsay buries his nose in the mess of brown strands at the top of his battered skull. Theon could feel Ramsay cumming inside of him. It was so hot it burned. He wanted water to clean himself of all of this dirt.   
Ramsay eventually let out one final moan and for Theon his eyes finally rolled into the back of his head as he fell to the floor. The experience was draining in many senses. Physically he was a wreck as the bruises began to blossom on his chest. He curled over to his side as the position he was in was far too painful to remain in.

The pain in his abdomen has reached its peak at this point. 

Despite various rape prevention session, he’d gone to as part of his training nothing could truly prepare him for the real thing. He was still recovering when he noticed that Ramsay had something in his hands. Initially he feared it was some type of sex toy but thankfully it turned out to be his phone. Not so thankfully it was Theon’s phone.

 

“Ramsay...Please. Please. Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with that phone. Perhaps he was going to take a picture and send it to Yara as a warning as to what would happen to people who crossed him. 

Ramsay lifted up Theon’s phone and clicked on a number. He heard the dial tone. 

“Hello? I’m sorry I’ve found a man in a warehouse. He’s in bad shape and bleeding out. Possibly a sexual attack. I think he’s a member of the police. A task force. Yes, that’s right. You’ll be here in how long? Ah perfect thank you.” He hung up and through the phone to the ground. He smashed it underneath his boot into shards of glass in plastic. He couldn’t get it back even if he wanted to. He hated it. 

 

“Can’t wait for Yara to see you looking like this. Poor Yara. You know how they’ll treat you after this. I might as well call you sheep instead of reek because they’ll wrap you up in wool. They’ll think you’re weak. I’ve seen how those victims get treated.” Ramsay was talking the way he knew it would get to him. Ramsay put on the jacket he had worn initially. He had a spare pair of Theon’s clothes in hand. 

Theon recognised them. He had put them up from the washing line in his house before he’d gone to work that morning. That sick fuck. 

 

"Well, you are but imagine how hard it will be to hear it over and over. Poor little Theon. The only surviving victim of the northern terror. Traumatized. So traumatized you'll be taken off the case that would have made your career. They’d eventually fire you. Can't have someone like you weighing them down. It's cheaper to pay for a new detective then for a Therapy session.”

“No…” Theon was meant to be strong. He was meant to be the cocky side leader. The one who made everything on the team light and fun despite the grave circumstances. He may have been perceived as a dick but it was what stopped the team falling into total despair. 

He needed quiet. That dripping was still going on in the background. Another dripping sound began to sound in the room. He hadn't noticed it before but now it had become louder then ever. 

“Unless...You come with me. They wouldn’t find the remnants of what happened. The game can keep on going. I keep adding more games and eventually, we reach the end game. If you win I'll let you go. If not. I win.” 

The thought of going along with the killer he’d sworn to kill was enough to make him want to die. Going with Ramsay meant someone was going to suffer, more than likely it was going to be him. 

The stakes were to high this time. 

Ramsay was right which was the worst part. He knew that Yara seeing him in that state would break her heart. Or fill her with inconsolable rage. That same rage he’d had at the warehouse. The same rage that got him captured and attacked. If Yara was anything like he was then he couldn’t let her befall the same fate, not in a million years. 

Besides if he went with Ramsay and could figure out a way he would be able to contact the team and get out of the situation before it got worse. Well before it got any worse. If he was able to survive. 

Theon made every effort to lift his hand as much as he could and he felt Ramsay grabbing it with his clammy, sweaty hands. 

He had no choice if he wanted to save his team. 

He was willingly walking away with the Northern Terror.


End file.
